


A Glass-Half-Full Type of Motherfucker

by celli



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Fandom Trumps Hate 2017, First Kiss, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: “Ryan,” Shane started, but really, what else was there to do, and if they were gonna freeze, they might as well freeze with one of them having a good time. (Shane ignored the voice telling him that watching Ryanwashis good time.) “Sure, let’s go ask the ghosts if they have an in with Mother Nature.”Spoiler: the ghosts were mum on the topic of climate change.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 24
Kudos: 174





	A Glass-Half-Full Type of Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abovetheruins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/gifts).



> abovetheruins did in fact win a story from me in FTH 2017, and then a) I got a concussion, b) while I was recovering, she changed fandoms, and c) once I learned enough about BFU, I became blocked on this story and this story only. I really appreciate her generosity in more ways than one.
> 
> Thanks to angelsaves, oops_ohdear, and thefourthvine for the brainstorming and early draft encouragement, and to missmollyetc and siria for the beta.
> 
> Title is from a quote from Timothy Olyphant ( _Deadwood_ the series).

“We are about to begin our descent into Rapid City Regional Airport,” the pilot said, and Shane gave up on his never-ending quest to stretch his legs to full length and crammed them back under his seat in the puddlejumper. Next to him, Ryan muttered something and scrolled to a new page of his book on gruesome deaths in the Black Hills or whatever his research for this episode was. As usual, Shane wasn’t allowed to know too much so that his reactions would be more genuine.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ryan said and did a little chair dance. Shane tried not to find it adorable and failed miserably.

They stepped out of the airport into a brisk but sunny day. Ryan turned his face up to the sun. “Nice. I thought they were kidding, but the air really does seem to be clearer here.”

“My kingdom for some smog,” Shane said, just to make Ryan laugh. TJ herded them towards the rental car, and they rubbed shoulders with the rest of the tourists as they loaded up and headed out.

Their destination, Rockerville, was a couple of miles north of town, on the way to Mount Rushmore. Shane took one look at the collection of five dilapidated buildings huddling together against the wind and shook his head into Ryan’s camera. “We did verify that these won’t fall down on top of us, right?”

“Why, scared?” Ryan asked, and Shane was surprised into a laugh.

“I’ll take some deep breaths,” he said. “Come on, let’s check this place out.” He jammed his cowboy hat from Tombstone on his head and followed Ryan.

The buildings had at some point been a hotel, a general store, a gas station, a bar, and a house, but Ryan said they had all been abandoned some five years ago. “The hotel’s been condemned, actually. The rest probably aren’t far behind.”

“I told you,” Shane muttered.

Ryan kept going. “The area has had ghost sightings since the turn of the last century. Cold spots, voices where there shouldn’t be, poltergeist activity. The bar owner closed because he would come in every morning and find glassware smashed on the floor.”

“Did they check that their shelves were level?” Shane asked helpfully.

“Did they apply basic carpentry knowledge before running away? Probably,” Ryan said.

Shane shrugged. “Just asking.”

Ryan went through the rest of the story as they poked around the bar. 

“A shootout?” Shane said. “A gol-durn, gun-blazing shootout?”

“That’s right,” Ryan said. He kept walking and talking, pausing briefly to say, “Careful, there’s a hole in the--”

“ _Ouch_.”

“The floor right there.”

Shane nursed his toe. “Keep going.”

Ryan yanked out a dusty chair from a dustier table. “Here, sit down before you fall down.”

Shane sat gingerly.

Ryan continued to spin out the story of a sheriff and a cattle rustler, a missing horse, and guns drawn across a crowded room, and as usual, Shane got swept right along, asking questions and making smart comments. They were so into Sheriff Ellsworth’s story that it took a gust of wind blowing through and knocking TJ’s cap to the floor to shock them both back to reality.

“When did February show up?” Shane asked, rubbing his arms.

“They said it might get into the high 40s tonight,” Ryan said. “We’ve got a space heater for our overnight - and you did pack sweatshirts, right?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wearing them all at once, thank you,” Shane said.

There were clouds just beginning to show in the west that night, but they didn’t get in the way of a spectacular sunset. Ryan and Shane both stood staring at it, heedless of the work they were supposed to be doing checking out the perimeter of the town.

“Even my LA-hardened cynical heart is moved by this light show,” Ryan said. He was clearly aiming for funny but his voice was just a little softer than usual.

“Huh,” Shane said. He tilted his head so he could see Ryan bathed in the pink and orange glow without being noticed. “Yeah, me too.”

“That’s sweet,” Katie said behind them, making them both jump, “but it doesn’t get food in you before it’s time to set up for the night. Let’s go, guys.”

“Duty - and sandwiches - call,” Shane said, stealing one more look at Ryan as he turned away.

They ate as quickly as possible. The wind picked up outside the bar and they huddled together in response, even though the space heater was holding off the weather just fine. Then the rest of the gang cleared out and Ryan and Shane set up their sleeping spaces in a well-protected corner of the bar.

“Those sleeping bags sure are close together,” Shane observed as Ryan tossed a blanket down.

“It’s gonna get cold, even with the space heater,” Ryan said. “And you’re a giant Midwestern furnace, so…”

“Cool,” Shane said. “Or not cool, as the case may be.”

Ryan snorted. 

Unsurprisingly, no spooks or spectres visited them in the night.

What woke Shane up wasn’t the wind or his phone alarm or Ryan’s muttering - it was the silence. He lifted his head off his pillow and took in the absolute stillness that had settled over the bar. Nothing from outside penetrated and the space heater was off. 

“What the heck?” he muttered.

“Huh?” Ryan asked muzzily next to him. He sat up, and Shane did the same. “It’s cold, why’d you turn off the heater?”

“I didn’t turn off the heater,” Shane said. “Why would I do that?” He headed for the window.

“Well, _I_ didn’t do it,” Ryan said. He fumbled for his camera. “Maybe--”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Bergara,” Shane said. “Come over here.”

Ryan joined him, camera on (of course), and the two of them looked out across the foot and a half of snow that had fallen the night before. There were drifts up almost to the window ledge and blocking the door, thanks to the wind that was still spitting a little around the corners of the buildings. Everything looked bright and peaceful and not a damn thing like the weather forecast.

“Huh,” Shane said.

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

“Call in?” Shane asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

The group in Rapid City, and even back at BuzzFeed HQ, were sympathetic, but a plow couldn’t be rented for love or money at the moment. “One of the local historical societies is helping us out,” Katie said over the speaker on Shane’s cell phone. “As soon as we get a line on a plow, we’ll come dig you out.”

“Super,” Shane said.

“I guess we’ll get some footage,” Ryan said. “Maybe the ghosts sent the weather - maybe they’re trying to warn us away!”

“Ryan,” Shane started, but really, what else was there to do, and if they were gonna freeze, they might as well freeze with one of them having a good time. (Shane ignored the voice telling him that watching Ryan _was_ his good time.) “Sure, let’s go ask the ghosts if they have an in with Mother Nature.”

Spoiler: the ghosts were mum on the topic of climate change.

They shivered their way around the perimeter of the bar, then came back to the sleeping area and huddled together on their stacked sleeping bags; Ryan had his blanket wrapped around him for extra warmth. He had his stocking cap on, too, and Shane jammed his much less warm cowboy hat as far down on his ears as possible. Once they’d gotten all possible footage and theories out, they turned off everything electronic except Ryan’s cell phone, left on the battery save mode. Fortunately they had both squirreled some snacks away.

“I’ll trade you half my protein bar for half your Snickers,” Ryan said.

Shane stared at him flatly. “Say what.”

“Shaaaane.” Ryan’s puppy dog eyes were, honestly, not that great, but Shane was stupid for them anyway. He handed over slightly less than half - a man still had to have his pride.

Ryan bit into the candy bar and made a noise that made Shane shift a little on the floor. 

“What?” Ryan asked.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, do you want - you should share the blanket.”

“No,” Shane said quickly. “I’m--”

“If the word ‘Illinois’ leaves your mouth, I will kick you,” Ryan said. “Here. Body heat and all that.” And suddenly the two of them were wrapped up in a blanket that was warm and smelled like Ryan and Ryan was pressed all along Shane’s side and. And.

“So, this is a weird sitch, ha ha,” Shane said in a very high-pitched voice.

Ryan just stared at him for a second. “Shane,” he said with dawning comprehension, and Shane flinched, “are you _scared_?”

“What’s there to be scared of?” Shane asked, trying to force his voice back into its normal range.

“We’re not gonna die here,” Ryan said, and Shane nearly laughed.

“Uncharacteristically optimistic of you, Bergara.”

Ryan grinned. “I fell through like five Wiki holes researching for this and read an interview where someone called himself ‘a glass half-full type of motherfucker.’ Doesn’t that sound like me?”

“Not a word of it,” Shane said.

Ryan laughed, and Shane kissed him. He just kissed him! His hat tumbled from his head as he lunged forward and cupped Ryan’s scratchy face in his hand. 

It would have been a great kiss if Ryan had, you know, kissed him back. Shane jerked back and jammed his hands between his knees. 

“Um.”

“Your hat,” Ryan said.

Shane’s heart sank. Right, Operation Deny and Repress was a go. “Maybe a ghost knocked it o--”

Ryan used the edges of the blanket to yank him over and kissed _Shane_. Holy _shit_.

Well, Shane, unlike some people in this room, knew how to kiss a guy _back_. He curled his hands in Ryan’s jacket and went to town.

His head buzzed as Ryan pulled him in closer. He broke away after a moment, panting for breath.

“What?” Ryan asked.

“Just - checking to make sure I didn’t pass out in a snowdrift overnight and you’re not some hypothermic delusion.”

Ryan leaned in and bit Shane’s earlobe.

“Hey! What--” Ryan was sucking on his earlobe now, and Shane’s eyes were doing their best to roll back in his head. “What are you doing?”

“Do you think I’m a delusion now?” Ryan asked, kissing along Shane’s jawline.

“No. Yes. What? Stop talking,” Shane said. He pushed Ryan onto his back and rolled on top of him.

They were still lying on the sleeping bags, tangled up in the blankets and around each other, when a discreet cough from the doorway brought Shane’s head up. Ryan tugged on Shane’s arm, but froze when he heard TJ’s voice.

“Hey, guys. We got a plow through. We, uh, tried calling you.”

Shane cleared his throat and sat up, the epitome of chill (except for the giant blush). “Awesome.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, without moving. “Thanks, TJ. We’ll be right out, okay?”

TJ made a break for it, and Shane pulled Ryan up.

“Ready to go?” Ryan asked.

“Not exactly,” Shane said, “But also I’m freezing now that I don’t have the blanket, so.”

Ryan nodded. He stood up. “Let’s get going, then.”

Shane had genuinely no idea what Ryan was thinking, which was unnerving all by itself. They packed their things in silence, climbed into the back of the SUV in silence, drove down the newly-plowed road to the highway in silence. Shane stared at his hands placed precisely on each knee.

Five miles later, Ryan took a breath. Shane held his. “I hope the hotel is warm,” he said to Katie in the front seat. “We’re a little chilly.”

Katie, who very much looked like she’d been updated by TJ, looked back at Ryan. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it cozy,” she said. 

“Big fluffy blankets,” Ryan said. Without looking away from the front seat, he reached over and put a hand down on the middle of the seat separating him from Shane.

Shane stared at it.

“I am very optimistic there will be big fluffy blankets,” Ryan said. Katie looked at him oddly and then turned around.

Shane carefully lifted one hand off his knee and set it next to Ryan’s. Ryan draped his fingers over Shane’s.

“Since when are you an optimist, Bergara?” TJ asked from the driver’s seat.

Shane turned his hand so he could grab Ryan’s properly. “Oh, please. This here’s one glass-half-full type of motherfucker, don’t you know anything?” he proclaimed, and when they demanded to know what he and Ryan were laughing so hard about, they refused to explain.

**Author's Note:**

> Rockerville is - mostly was - a real place, founded in 1876, but most of it was abandoned and [burned down on purpose](https://www.blackhillsbadlands.com/blog/2016-12-29/rockerville-saying-goodbye-piece-history) in 2016. Ellsworth is the name of Jim Beaver's character in _Deadwood_ (and my great-grandmother's maiden name, but who's counting?).
> 
> Shane, Ryan, & Co. are probably on their way back to the Alex Johnson Hotel, a historic hotel with rumored hauntings. Sure hope ghost hunting doesn't get in the way of any of their fun...


End file.
